A New Year
by SassyOcean
Summary: Skwisgaard/Toki, fluff. Consists of a party and two Scandinavians who are at a crossroads. Rated T for language, though it is incredibly mild. (I suppose I ought to note that this is really really gay.)


The 24 year old man brushed his auburn hair out of his face, staring at his door in a menacing matter, wishing so hard he had the bravery to open it and go outside. The party was reaching critical mass, noise of hard metal and giggling women pulsing through the air, reaching all the way to Toki's quarters.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy parties, of course he did, but he just wasn't sure how much courage he could rile up to go out and face It, and by It he did not mean the party.

Then with a sudden flourish he jumped from his bed, sprinted to the door and threw it open. He fast-walked down the long hall, down to the main area. The noise got louder as he edged closer, which made his boots drag against the carpet harder than before, but he cursed in his native tongue and pushed forward.

As the hall he was previously in opened up to the area he took in the party. There must have been over a hundred people crammed all into the area, the cloaked guards assuring that was where they stayed. One looked to Toki, investigating to see he was not a "casual" that had wandered, but relaxed to see the young man, timidly enter in.

"Dood!" was suddenly cried out to him, and over stumbled an utterly intoxicated Pickles, his face flushed red from the intake, a woman on each arm. Toki huffed out a sigh of relief, glad to hear the Wisconsin accent, rather than the one he feared.

"Where ya been, Toki?" the red head slurred, not being able to focus exactly on his fellow bandmate's figure.

"I's is here now, nots worry, Pickle." He replied back, hoping the answer was good enough to not be asked on anymore details. The drummer just smiled dreamily at him, the large amount of alcohol flowing thorugh his blood allowing him to not want anymore from the response.

"Ohkay. Have fun, wontcha?" he said to Toki, but before there was any time for a reply the intoxicated band member dragged himself away, the two women in tow.

As his friend stumbled away, Toki began to look about the room once more, eyeing about. The amount of people in the room made him almost dizzy, but he kept a keen eye, he knew exactly what he was looking for, so he could avoid it indefinitely.

After a few moments he knew the side of the room he was on secure, and he relaxed slightly, his breath caving away from the panic it previously portrayed.

In this exact moment a growl was heard through the entire party, and things went quiet. Nathan Explosion, the massive black haired lead stood over by the wall of windows, microphone in hand. It looked so natural to Toki that he was holding it, almost comforting.

He then began to growl in to the mic, though it was him attempting to speak normally (though that never was the case for the burly man). "Hey…uh. Welcome, or whatever. Charles said that I'm supposed…supposed to uh, announce that theres…uh. A minute. Or whatever. 'kay." And with that stammered statement he dropped the mic. Suddenly, on all the tvs splayed around the room (that usually showed an endless feed of Dethklok shows) a timer showed, counting from 30 seconds. The entire room roared out the numbers as the danced lower and lower, 20…10…

Toki stared at the screen, watching as the New Year approached him at the speed of light itself, knowing that nothing would change. Not a damned thing.

10…7…5…3…

He heaved a great sigh, watching the last seconds dance away.

"Little Tokis…" a familiar voice sounded from behind him, two seconds on the clock. He turned around, sliding on his heel.

A chiseled face was nothing but a centimeter away from his, leaning down. Full lips breathed against his own, saying only "zeros" before pressing two together. The entire room was in applause and rage, the new year officially among them. No one seemed to notice the two guitarists lip locked, clawing desperately at each other. Toki's fellow musician wrapped his spindly arms around his muscled body, and in return Toki put his hands into the small of the blonde's back, pushing him close to him with the grip he had. The blonde then began stepping away, but instead of releasing his Nordic partner he brought him along, neither releasing their embrace as they backed out of the main area, the guards watching in complete confusion and awe as the couple made it back into private quarters. The taller man closed the door behind them as he entered his room.

The embrace ended, Toki pulling away quickly.

"Skwisgaard, I's don't understands!" the rhythm guitarist exclaimed, looking fiercely to the man before him.

Skwisgaard said nothing, but in turn pushed Toki onto the white fur of the bed, straddling on top of him, pushing his mouth back where it longed. The younger man allowed this for a moment then rolled them over so he was then on top of the Swede, and pushed his arms down, taking his mouth away.

"Explains."

The Swede huffed out of annoyance, and gave Toki a look that made him feel okay releasing him. The younger climbed off the other, and sat crosslegged on the bed next to him, looking earnestly for answers. The other pulled himself up to sit upright, his long torso inching in an out with a few hard breaths.

"Fines, since yous ams obviously so caughts up on dis." Skwisgaard said in an annoyed tone, staring at his hands. After he said this, there was silence. The Nord stared back at him, but no words emerged from the full lips. Hours seemed to pass in the few seconds of silence.  
Toki furrowed his brows and stood up angrily, his fists clenched.  
"I ams not going to be somes party bodys call!" he declared in broken English, trying to sound definitive, though on the inside he could feel his heart tighten like stressed copper strings.

The Swede sighed, crawling across the king sized bed to where Toki stood, and he wrapped his slender fingers around the balled fists.  
"Sits. Please." Skwisgaard pleaded, his tone sounding much softer, even desperate.

The Norwegian looked at his ex-lover, feeling tears gather together in his eyes. How could he trust the man before him when every time this happened the next morning it was like nothing had changed?

The blonde saw the questions in the pale blue eyes before him, watching the tears escape from the corners. He saw them run down, a million emotions filling up his chest. At this he went to his knees, still on the bed, leveling his face with those eyes.

"Toki, you knows I's a fool. You knows dat. Please, don't do the cries, ja?" the other tried, but Toki just looked into his eyes like he couldn't think of anything else to do.

Skwisgaard then released his clasp on the still remaining fists, bringing his calloused fingers to the younger mans face. He cupped Toki's chin with one hand, the other gently wiping away the tears.

"_Jeg er så lei meg, jeg er en dildo. Jeg vet jeg er. Vennligst forstå at jeg er så lei meg_…"**1** he whispered, which caused the man before him to look at him in awed confusion.

In all the years the two had known each other Toki had been forced to learn Swedish to accommodate living with the high maintenance blonde. It had never been the other way around. Now Norwegian words flooded from the Swedes lips, fluent and sincere.

"Wowee…hows you knows that?" was gasped in reply, a ghost of a smile on both their faces. The older man used this to his advantage, knowing Toki was beyond curious.

"Sits, and I tells you." he leveled, pulling down from his knees to sit on the bed, patting the space next to him, though keeping one hand on the tear streaked face.

This was complied with, though Toki refused to sit as close to Skwisgaard as both would have liked.

When he finally nestled into the white fur sheets he looked expectantly to the man before him, the tears having stopped as quickly as they came.

Skwisgaard took his hands away from the Nord, reaching instinctively to his Gibson, fingering a scale. This eased his nerves, and Toki knew this, letting him do it a few times before making a small whimper, requesting attention to come back to the situation at hand.

The blonde stayed staring at his guitar, still playing as he began to speak, his already heavy accent becoming thicker with nervous tension.

"You…you knows I's don't mean to hurts you, little Toki. I's just so dildos sometime. My brain ams not likes yours. You knows this?" he sighed out, peeking away from his guitar to the younger man's face, which looked twisted between understanding and sadness.

"Ja."

"Wells…it new year. And I's don't wants it without yous by my sides. I keeps thinking-a to myselfs how to make dis betters, but I knows yous so angry…So I learns Norwegians, so you hears I means it."

It took a moment for Toki to take this in before he let out a yell, not so much of anger but defiance to what was being told to him.

"If yous wants to be withs me so bads, why yous what Pickle tolds me ams…humps and dumps." He whispered the American slang, as if uttering forbidden words, and Skwisgaard knew why. They were so fucking true.

The cried out words hurt his heart more than his ears, though they were indeed sudden in volume.

The guitar was then flung to the Swedes side, and he grabbed the other man, pulling him quickly and forcefully into his lap, making Toki straddle him. The sudden movement scared the child within the Nord (who came out often, either way) and he gasped a quick cry, though it was silenced by the calloused finger tip he had been missing against his skin.

"Because I's dildos. But I ams changing-a. _Jeg elsker ingen andre enn deg, og jeg innser at det bare nå_!**2** _Du ... gjør den mørke ... lys. Ingen kan gjøre det, men du._"**3**

The Norwegian words seemed to nestle right into the emptiness that had been aching inside Toki for years, as if finishing a puzzle he had thought he lost the piece to, now suddenly found. He felt it fall into place, and he knew he'd never understand why. He knew that he wouldn't know why Skwisgaard decided now was the time, he knew that it didn't have to make sense anymore. But above all, he knew sincerity.

"_Jag älskar dig, min prins._"**1** the Norwegian whispered to the Swede. He hadn't tasted these words on his tongue in many months, and they were sweeter than he had ever expected.

Lips collided together in one instant synapsis of decision between them both, passion fueling harder than ever before.

Skwisgaard pulled away, burying his head into his lovers neck, leaving a trail of feathery kisses, whispering something he knew was heard,

"_Jegelsker deg også, minridder._"**4**

Norwegian translations:

1. I'm so sorry, I'm a dildo. I know I am. Please understand that I am so sorry.

2. I love no one but you, and I realise that only now.

3. You...make the dark...light. No one can do that, but you.

4. I love you too, my knight.

Swedish Translation:

1. I love you, my prince.


End file.
